Wednesday, March 07, 2012
a thin lace of white gently whipped the air, moving gracefully towards a crease on the gravel. light poured through it, the shadow on the floor a mere ghost of what floats above. with a sudden gush from the outside it was gone, leaving behind cinders on the ceramic tile, mountains of wax, and a smear on the smooth ground.
it burned out. i said i won't let it. but it burned itself out.
it's the beauty of the things we normally overlook, something we pass by without taking much care or notice. something one says that you do not take heart, something you say that you don't really mean.
do you still love mangoes? apples? do my kisses mean anything more than just that? am I supposed to be at fault for everything? do you know why i ask these questions?
i didn't want the dance to stop.
but it burned itself out. no matter how hard i kept that candle safe, that dance on that crimson stage stopped.
posted at around 9:30 PM
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Saturday, February 25, 2012
The moon's a fine line tonight, soon it'll be all shadows. A fine line, soon erased, then redrawn.
If I could just have her round and full and never hiding, and just see the scars, her beauty and her imperfections. Have her shine on my eyes, see rings around her in stripes of colors, have her dance with her little ones and play hide and seek behind the clouds and still she be in all her glory: round, and full, and never hiding.
And maybe I should ask the wind to stop, too. Ask him to stop caressing earth's little fingers, branching out from the dirt. Ask him to stop the dance he makes with the green hair growing on that rolling plain, or stop whispering murmurs to the ants walking along that impervious gray envelope. Ask the wind to stop: have a day off or too, I'm sure he's pretty tired with all that moving.
Or maybe I should just stop dreaming.
If I could just have her round and full and never hiding, and just see the scars, her beauty and her imperfections. Have her shine on my eyes, see rings around her in stripes of colors, have her dance with her little ones and play hide and seek behind the clouds and still she be in all her glory: round, and full, and never hiding.
And maybe I should ask the wind to stop, too. Ask him to stop caressing earth's little fingers, branching out from the dirt. Ask him to stop the dance he makes with the green hair growing on that rolling plain, or stop whispering murmurs to the ants walking along that impervious gray envelope. Ask the wind to stop: have a day off or too, I'm sure he's pretty tired with all that moving.
Or maybe I should just stop dreaming.
posted at around 11:51 PM
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Monday, January 30, 2012
The battle fever. He had never thought to experience it himself, though Jaime had told him of it often enough. How time seemed to blur and slow and even stop, how the past and the future vanished until there was nothing but the instant, how fear fled, and thought fled, and even your body. "You don't feel your wounds then, or the ache in your back from the weight of the armor, or the sweat running down into your eyes. You stop feeling, you stop thinking, you stop being you, there is only the fight, the foe, and this man and then the next and the next and the next, and you know they are afraid and tired but you're not, you're alive, and death is all around you but their swords move so slowly, you can dance through them laughing." Battle fever. -Tyrion (Martin, 1999)
I'd read this over and over, and never get tired of a single word.
I'd read this over and over, and never get tired of a single word.
posted at around 3:17 AM
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Friday, December 16, 2011
what would you have done differently?
regret, that's one word i'm definitely crossing out from my vocabulary.
ret·ro·spect. contemplation of the past; a survey of past time, events, etc.
it is human nature to regret. one moment we're certain of things, the next thing we know we might've taken a wrong turn somewhere. then we look back, trace our steps and realize that fork we just passed by tricked us into picking the wrong road.
too bad we don't have a preview of what might come as we go along. we only have ideals. the sad part is, these ideals we oh so perfectly engineered in our head don't really get to be realized as we thought they'd be. there'd be that stain on the left corner of that image, or that gash from that top end to the bottom, then we realize we aren't looking at the same picture anymore. we're in another place: lost, figuring things out as we get used to the imperfections. then we settle, jump on that cliff and recollect, wasn't there another way to get through this than what i just did?
thinking in retrospect gives you that false authority over not knowing. who's to say we picked the wrong road? who's to say jumping wasn't a good idea either? Ab actu ad posse valet illatio, but to deduce can only get us so far. we can reason our way out of the most absurd things to justify what we think is right, but then again, who are we to judge if we made the right call?
it's like a plague that gets into your head, you think for a moment you know what to do, then you realize you just don't.
what would you have done differently?
i would've stopped asking that damned question. we learn a whole lot from getting lost than what we would've from when we're not. so when that next fork comes around we know how it feels to not know, and hopefully we won't have to look back.
posted at around 12:20 AM
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Tuesday, December 06, 2011
it was an uneventful--cold-quiet evening and i randomly thought of looking up possible ideas for whatever and i settled for checking how much future education may cost me.
so, according to CCA's (California College of the Arts, a random school I looked up since I had relatives there) financial aid admissions cost of attendance calculator, I needed 52 420
no wonder they only have nearly a quarter of their population (29.54%) have a bachelors degree.
granted i'm reaaaally so qualified for their financial aid/scholarships/loans (ugh) the net cost would be around 464 000 pesos, gah.
so depressing. oh well, i guess that's not for me.
posted at around 12:31 AM
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Sunday, November 27, 2011
nobody really bothers fixing their bed anymore,
or cares what that weird weather guy dressed up like he's always in the safari said on tv.
i bet most people would spend much of their money on the most unnecessary things,
or get a bit out of control with their friday night.
but what if friends suddenly come over and see your privees "inopportunely" hanging on that sofa?
or that it suddenly starts raining and you just wished you were a little more attentive that morning.
it's a bummer when you suddenly had to get something and your wallet's all dust,
or fuck that swerve got the best of your already alcohol flooded head.
the little things count, that's what i always say.
there's nothing "opportune" about getting a little too late for an important meeting when you keep on raping that snooze button every freaking day.
you lie about what you had for breakfast, the next thing you know you're telling stories about how great your weekend was.
you scratch yourself a couple of times when you're upset, i'll be willing to bet my whole life you'll die by your own shit fault and rot in a whole eternity of reliving your own doing.
nobody really bothers fixing their bed anymore. nobody cares about the little things, and that's just sad.
or cares what that weird weather guy dressed up like he's always in the safari said on tv.
i bet most people would spend much of their money on the most unnecessary things,
or get a bit out of control with their friday night.
but what if friends suddenly come over and see your privees "inopportunely" hanging on that sofa?
or that it suddenly starts raining and you just wished you were a little more attentive that morning.
it's a bummer when you suddenly had to get something and your wallet's all dust,
or fuck that swerve got the best of your already alcohol flooded head.
the little things count, that's what i always say.
there's nothing "opportune" about getting a little too late for an important meeting when you keep on raping that snooze button every freaking day.
you lie about what you had for breakfast, the next thing you know you're telling stories about how great your weekend was.
you scratch yourself a couple of times when you're upset, i'll be willing to bet my whole life you'll die by your own shit fault and rot in a whole eternity of reliving your own doing.
nobody really bothers fixing their bed anymore. nobody cares about the little things, and that's just sad.
posted at around 1:17 AM
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Thursday, November 24, 2011
sweat, dripping from my temple as my legs move at a repetitive pace. rushing through currents of wind, everything seemed to give way to my existence.
you've always been there for us. always, there for us. even when he had his flaws, even during times when you were led to believe otherwise, you've always been there. never failing, feeble you may have felt from the deceipt that was deeply regretted but you've always been there. always selfless.
lights swerving, faces blurred. i spotted a sillhouette of uneven ground ahead, "Run around it." i told myself. bam went the sound of metal on metal, as i took to my left at a building being erected. i felt the strain on my legs as i crossed the grandstand, "Just to that corner." i egged myself on.
i remember when we were kids, you'd hide gifts on that unassuming slot in the wall of that toilet. we'd run around try looking for it before christmas comes so we'd get to open our gifts early. whatever happened to days like that?
my heart was beating out of my chest as i took a rest while treading lightly. walk, past the monkey bars i walked. past the cars parked on the sides, and that fake beach volley thing they put up, i walked.
then i ran.
posted at around 3:05 PM
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Monday, November 07, 2011
it's like sugar, or that tv personality that's always on everywhere. that song that always plays on the radio, or that food your mom always gets you every morning.
it's the sun rising, and setting, or the moon lurking behind that cloud, then succumbing to dawn. it's the stars that quiver with it's twinkly gleam, always in the same spot til their dad gets up and outshines them.
it's tiresome, arduous, wearying, irksome, laborious, monotonous: need more words for it?
it's the sun rising, and setting, or the moon lurking behind that cloud, then succumbing to dawn. it's the stars that quiver with it's twinkly gleam, always in the same spot til their dad gets up and outshines them.
it's tiresome, arduous, wearying, irksome, laborious, monotonous: need more words for it?
posted at around 3:14 PM
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Tuesday, November 01, 2011
thick liquid spat on the ceramic floor, as it melted from the gentle fire burning above.
i wake up every morning thinking of you. you probably're still sleeping, mouth half open, arm up your left shoulder. with your legs sprawled in the most bizarre positions, you never were the poised sleeper. i found that cute.
i catch the train, not minding that smelly day worker, nor that naggy mom and her smutty little daughter, and look eagerly at my phone, wishing it was one of those days when you'd say take care, or that you miss me. there are times that i mindlessly grin meriting me that awkward stare from the college lass in front of me, there were also the days when i'd just sigh at the morose state of my social life, but hey, i'm not complaining (sometimes i do, but you know how babaw that is.)
a puddle of hot wax formed by the crease where that burning miniature torch stood, poked it with my finger and saw how imprinted on the semi-translucent surface was my identity, lines that define who i am.
it's the weekend again, and i look forward to spending more time with you. you were fun to be with, you never fail to make me laugh. your bone structure fits my shoulders perfectly, and so do mine. your hands weren't as gentle as most would find attractive, but it's perfect as it is. we were perfect.
wind blew on the candle, but the flare on top of it just flickered with the wind. it burned to about 3mm from the wax that lay on its liquid crater, but it still managed to get back to its relaxed state. red orange and yellow, their dance continued on top of their crimson stage, not failing to awe their spectator at the marvel their show was.
i love you more than anything else. you make my everyday exciting, me wanting to be with you more. the things we could still do, the things we haven't done yet, everything we already did. i cherish. every part of you i love, from that slight wave on the ends of your hair down to that small wrinkle on your hands. i love you more than anything else.
thick liquid spat on the ceramic floor, as it melted from the gentle fire burning above. the wax is nearing its end, fire burning close to the floor. its light reflecting from the matte cream lining that extends towards a modular end. i don't want it to burn out. i don't.
posted at around 7:00 PM
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Thursday, August 11, 2011
inspiring. (Jobs, 2005)
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The first story is about connecting the dots.
I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?
It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: “We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?” They said: “Of course.” My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.
And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents’ savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn’t see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn’t interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.
It wasn’t all romantic. I didn’t have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends’ rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:
Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn’t have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can’t capture, and I found it fascinating.
None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it’s likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.
Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.
My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.
I really didn’t know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.
I didn’t see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.
During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple’s current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.
I’m pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.
My third story is about death.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: “If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.” It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “No” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn’t even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor’s code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you’d have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.
I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I’m fine now.
This was the closest I’ve been to facing death, and I hope it’s the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960’s, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.
Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: “Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.” It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.
Thank you all very much.
posted at around 11:01 PM
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